Through the Veil
by The Lady Rogue
Summary: Harry crosses through the veil and ends up in another universe, where there aren't any witches or wizards, but there are aliens, superheros, and secret agents. *W.I.P.*
1. Chapter 1

Harry ignored the sound of alarms blaring as he walked through the remains of the Ministry of Magic. The new Ministry had uprooted eighty years prior, but there was one artefact that they'd been unable to transport and instead they'd had to leave behind a set of wards to hide and protect it. Harry had torn them down just moments ago; hence, the alarms.

The faint pop of apparition didn't bother him either; by the time anyone managed to catch up to him, Harry would be gone.

A hundred years was a long time to live; Harry would know. It was an even longer time to live alone, but Harry had practically become a hermit after Ginny had died, only interacting with the muggles that lived in the village closest to his house when he made the weekly walk into town for groceries, instead choosing to focus on academics.

He scraped a hand over his cheek, feeling the soft skin under the bristles of his boxed beard. He looked as young as the day he'd turned twenty-five, the day he'd stopped aging. He certainly didn't look the two hundred and fifty years he'd lived. He'd had to use glamours for most of his life, hiding his immortality from the wizarding community. It didn't take a genius to work out that the Hallows had granted him that which Voldemort had hankered after, and he didn't fancy being painted as the next Dark Lord, dabbling with necromancy.

Five years following Ginny's death Harry had faked his own, and left the wizarding world for good. His children had grieved and moved on, and their children after that, and so on and so forth. Such was the way of life.

A bottomless moleskin pouch hung was tied onto the belt in his jeans. Inside he kept his entire life; books, potions, clothes, broom… everything a wizard would need if he was starting up a life on a magicless planet.

Today, Harry was going exploring. Through the veil.

* * *

"Holy shit, what the fuck is that," Andre swore. Nick turned his eye on him and waited.

"Sir, come and look at this." In three quick strides Nick was at Andre's side. Andre gestured to the screen before him.

It was lit up in a blaze of colours, indicating a massive energy flare over the North Atlantic, the Bermuda Triangle to be specific.

"What is it?" Nick growled.

Andre shook his head. "No idea, sir."

There was a gasp beside him and Nick turned to glare at the offender. She winced and quickly brought up an image similar to the one on Andre's screen on her own, but this time it was over New Mexico.

"This is from Doctor Foster's recordings in 2011," she said. "Of when the wormhole opened up and spat Thor out."

"Aw shit," Nick said. "Another wormhole?" He grabbed communicator and called Phil.

"Got something I need you to check out. Fancy a trip to the Caribbean?"

* * *

Landing in the middle of the ocean wasn't Harry's idea of a good time. He spluttered up a mouthful of salt water and dragged his broom from his bag, shooting into the air. A few flicks of his wand dried him out and then he cast location spell that would direct him to the nearest dry land.

He ended up on a gorgeous beach, white sand and blue skies as far as the eye could see. A few discrete discussions with some bewildered locals and Harry discovered that he was in the Bahamas, and it was early 2012.

Well, Harry had packed a beach towel.

He rented a room in a local hotel indefinitely, and sprawled out on a deck chair, soaking up the rays. He'd decide what to do next when he'd gotten himself a tan.

* * *

Phil didn't like the Bahama's. He'd been forced to remove his suit jacket the moment he stepped off the plane, and his trip had continued downhill from there.

No one had noted anything suspicious in the local area, or if they had, they weren't saying. Two days of enquires had led to nothing but irate holiday makers and bored staff politely telling him where to shove it.

Eventually, he'd decided that he need to go to the 'scene of the crime', so to speak.

Getting out there was the problem.

After a long and convoluted discussion with the owner of the only yachting company on the island, Phil discovered that a skipper would take him out to sea, but not where he wanted to go, and if he wanted to take a boat out himself then he had to have the necessary qualifications for sailing a yacht.

Phil did not have a skipper's licence. He didn't even know how to sail.

It was mid-morning. He sat at the bar and order a pina colada in the hope that would cheer him up.

The next step would be trying to find someone who owned their own boat, and paying them copious amounts to take him out for the day.

"I hear you're looking for someone to skipper a boat for you." The voice was British, Queen's English, cultured, and saying exactly what he wanted to hear.

"I might be. Where did you hear that?"

The man who'd spoken was of average height, young, with bright green eyes and messy black hair. His mouth quirked in amusement.

"Everyone in this resort has heard about that," the man replied. "My name's Harry, and I'll be your captain for the day."

Phil's pina colada arrived, and he took a sip, thinking about the offer. It seemed genuine enough. If it wasn't, then all the better. Phil could handle himself.

"Mine's Phil. Nice to meet you," Phil said. "And I appreciate what you're doing for me."

Harry's eyes creased as he smiled. "No problem. It'll be nice to have some company for once."

* * *

"So, what exactly are you looking for?" Harry asked as casually as he could.

The technology Harry had seen so far had been rudimentary, on par with the early 21st of the world that he'd come from, but he was staying in an under developed part of the world. The presence of a what was surely a government agent suggested that someone had noticed his entry to the new dimension, so there was a chance that they had more advanced technology than Harry had first assumed.

"Who says I'm looking for anything?"

Harry raised a brow. Phil snorted.

"Fine. I've not exactly been subtle. I'm investigating the reports of a disturbance," Phil said. "Can't tell you more than that, I'm afraid."

A light breeze drifted over Harry's shoulders. He cut the engine and beckoned Phil over.

"Come hold the wheel?" he said. "I'm going to get the sail out."

When Phil was in touching distance, Harry petrified him, and caught him before he fell. Phil glared at him accusingly.

"Sorry," Harry said. He levitated Phil into a chair and bound him to it, and dripped three drops of veritaserum down his throat. Phil's eyes went glazed, and Harry removed the body bind.

"Who do you work for?"

"Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement Logistics Division."

Harry laughed. "That's a mouthful."

"SHIELD for short."

"Why are you here?"

"I've been sent to investigate the wormhole that was opened up over the Bahamas."

"How did you know?" Harry asked, fascinated. Muggles in his own world hadn't discovered magic until the '30s.

"Satellite imaging scans for certain types of energy signatures."

"That implies you know what type of energy signature to look for. How?" Harry demanded.

"Last year an alien came through a wormhole. We've been keeping an eye out ever since."

"An alien? What?"

"The Norse god Thor is actually an alien from the planet Asgard." Harry's jaw dropped. This world was already more exciting than the one he'd left, and there was no wizarding community as far as he could tell. He absentmindedly fed Phil the antidote.

* * *

Phil inspected the man before him while he waited for the drug to completely clear from his mind. Whatever Harry had given him had been potent. He'd been compelled to speak, to answer truthfully and to the best of his ability. He supressed a shiver. The damage that could be done with a drug like that was immense.

"So," he said, then stopped when Harry's unsettlingly bright gaze fixed upon him once again. "So, you're the person whom came through the wormhole?"

"That's me," Harry replied.

He wasn't Asgardian, of that Phil was sure. It begged the question: what was he? Who was he?

"I don't suppose you'll leave me alone if I promise I'm harmless?" Harry said. Phil gave him a look that he hoped indicated just what he thought of that question. Judging by Harry's amused grin he'd managed to make his point.

"I can't believe the person I came to investigate ended up being the one investigating me," Phil said wryly.

Harry gave him a sheepish grin, and a long thin stick appeared in his hand.

"If it makes you feel better, you won't remember any of this."

Phil's panic must have shown on his face, because Harry looked apologetic even as he pointed the stick at Phil.

"Sorry," he said, and everything when black.

* * *

"Phil!" Harry cried. "Are you alright?"

Phil pushed himself up from the floor and blinked. Harry inspected him. He seemed to not have suffered unduly from Harry's obliviation.

"What?" Phil groaned.

"You fainted." Harry ushered Phil down into the cabin. "Sun stroke, perhaps?"

"Perhaps," Phil said, looking confused. Harry swallowed down his guilt.

"Why don't you have a rest? I'll let you know when we get to those coordinates," Harry offered, and Phil agreed.

* * *

"Nothing to report," Phil said to Nick over the phone. "If anything came through the wormhole it's long gone."


	2. Chapter 2

"There's a man teleporting around New York," Stark said without further ado.

Nick considered forgiving him for calling at 4am.

"Right," he said. "Can you send me the footage?"

"Already on it," Stark said. "I wonder what we should call him? Scotty?"

Nick pinched the bridge of his nose and hung up. The footage came through instantly, a collage of CCTV cameras that had caught each of the man's jumps between locations. He jumped three times before a camera seemed to catch his eye. The man stared at it for a long moment, before an expression of annoyance crossed his face — it looked like he'd realised there was a chance he was being recorded. He then turned on one foot and teleported again; that was the last of the footage.

"Damn it all to hell," Nick muttered to himself. There was a possibility this was a Gifted, one that was newly discovering his powers, but the man had teleported with the confidence of one that knew exactly what he was doing, implying that he'd done it several times before. Nick had never seen anyone with that type of power before. Perhaps another Asgardian? It would tie in with the electrical disturbance over the Bermuda Triangle.

"Yes sir?" Even in the early hours of the morning Phil sounded remarkably well put together.

"I've got a lead for you to follow up on. Meet in your office, ASAP," Nick said.

* * *

Harry could have cursed himself when he'd spotted the camera. He'd been Apparating around New York with impunity, checking for where he knew the American magical communities to be in his other world and he'd found nothing. Just after Apparating to an ally outside the Woolworth building he'd noticed the camera. He Apparated straight back to the flat he was renting and barely resisted throwing his wand at the floor in irritation.

Instead, he made himself a cup of tea and sat down to think. So, he'd appeared on camera and undoubtedly someone would notice sooner or later. The government would get hold of it and there was even a chance Phil would see it. If his mind was strong enough, he may even be able to break Harry's memory charm.

"You're a fucking moron, Potter," he said to himself. He'd been so used to the Bahamas, where security cameras were non-existent and most of the locals still believed in voodoo if he showed off any strange behaviours that he'd forgotten cities had things like CCTV.

* * *

Phil stared at the screen before him. "I know this man," he said and then grimaced, rubbing at his eyes. A splitting headache had come out of nowhere after he'd stared at the screen.

"What?" Nick barked. Phil winced at the sound and pinched the bridge of his nose. Harry was swimming on the screen and there was a strange pounding in his ears.

Phil blinked and the ground rushed up to meet him, the world fading to black.

He awoke to medics fussing over him. He groaned and brushed them away. Nick was standing over him, arms crossed.

"How you feeling?" he growled. Phil pushed himself to his feet, straightening the cuffs on his suit and tried to get his mind in order.

"Fine, fine. There's something… something I have to tell you," Phil said and shook his head. "I just can't remember…"

Suddenly, the events in the Caribbean came to him – unaltered.

"That son of a bitch!" he cried. Phil stalked forward and yanked the screen toward him, zooming in on Harry's face. "This – this is the man who helped me in the Caribbean, when none of the local skippers would take me out to the origins of our wormhole."

He turned to Nick. "He's also the one that came through it."

* * *

Harry debated leaving New York. Muggle facial recognition was good, but it wouldn't think to look for him in London, or Paris, or Tokyo. But, damnit, he'd promised himself he'd explore each country as he got to it and leaving for another city felt like running away.

Besides, whatever agency that had been searching for him hadn't been actively hostile, at least not yet.

And it wasn't as if he couldn't deal with hostile entities, anyway.

* * *

"Agent Coulson, this is, frankly, worrying. The teleportation is one thing, but combined with the ability to remove memories, compel the truth, and physically incapacitate someone, we've got a major player on our hands."

Phil stood aside as several junior agents scurried around, jumping at Nick's every growl as they performed various tasks geared toward finding and detaining Harry.

"Sir," he begun tiredly. "Harry wasn't hostile, beyond the limits of my interrogation, and while he's certainly dangerous, I don't actually think he's a threat."

"What are you saying?" Nick asked.

"If – when – you find him, let me talk to him first. Approach him like we would an acquisition."

Fury strode toward him and spoke in a tone low enough to guarantee no one else would be able to hear.

"You don't have to do this, Phil. He's already assaulted you once."

"In the mildest possible manner," Phil reminded him. Harry had even ensured that he'd caught Phil before he'd hit the ground. "I can do this. Besides, I think Harry rather liked me."

"Hmpf," Nick said. His gaze was indecipherable. "Permission granted. Now go get some rest!"

* * *

Harry sauntered out of the alley he'd Apparated into and winked at the nearest CCTV camera. Just down the road was a diner that made excellent pancakes. He got a corner booth and sat with his back to the wall, in line of sight of both exits, and sipped his coffee.

Forty minutes later, Phil walked in. Harry grinned, unsurprised, and waved at the other man, whose eyes narrowed when he caught sight of him.

"Mr Potter?" Phil said. "That's your name, isn't it, at least according to the documentation you used in the Bahamas?"

Harry gestured to the other side of the booth.

"Harry Potter, at your service. Take a seat, Phil. Coffee?" He motioned the waitress over. "How are you? I hope you've not got too bad of a headache."

He touched a hand to his pouch and a Mulpepper's Miracle Cure for Malicious Migraines jumped into his hand. He offered the potion vial and Phil took it warily.

"It's like aspirin, but better," Harry explained. Phil tucked it away into his jacket pocket. Harry followed the movement with his eyes and bit back a snort of laughter. Of course the man wasn't going to take it. Instead, Harry suspected there would be a team of SHIELD scientists slaving over it in a very short amount of time.

"Thank you," Phil said. He looked calm, composed. Harry was glad to see him and chose not to examine that thought with too much depth.

"I don't believe I had the opportunity to properly introduce myself, before." Phil withdrew a thin black wallet from his pocket, flipping it open to reveal a circular badge with an emblem of an eagle clipped to one side and an identification card on the other. "My name is Special Agent Phil Coulson and I work for SHIELD, which I believe you're already aware of."

Harry grinned. "Special Agent," he echoed. He noted that Phil's clearance was Level 7. The higher the clearance level, the more important the agent. Harry was certain that Phil was not just an average SHIELD lackey.

"I am very sorry for what I did in the Bahamas," Harry said. "I'd hoped to enter this world and go unnoticed." He snorted and glanced up at the CCTV camera in the corner. "I'd not accounted for how technologically advanced this world would be."

"Why did you hope to go unnoticed?" Phil said. "What plans do you have for this world that require such stealth?"

Harry frowned and sipped his coffee. "Plans?" he asked. Phil stared steadily back at him.

Two hundred years, a whole other world, and yet Harry still managed to get himself painted as some sort of Dark Lord. All he'd done was take a bloody holiday on the beach.

"Why would I have plans for this world?" he retorted, but didn't bother playing naive. "Time passes, but some things never change. Look Phil, I'll be honest with you, all I want is to explore a world and not be tormented for being who I am. I suppose that's too much to ask." He huffed. "It always was."

"No world domination, then?" Phil asked.

Harry narrowed his eyes, until the corner of Phil's mouth twitched. "You're messing with me."

Phil shrugged. "It's as I told my boss. You're dangerous, but not a danger."

Harry sat back, regarding the man before him. "You know, you're the first person I've met in a long while able to make such a distinction."

Some of his old friends had, but most of the wizarding world had enjoyed fear mongering far too much to try to think beyond what the papers told them. Yet, here was a man who had little reason to trust him, and he was able to identify exactly what Harry tried to explain each and every time he'd been accused of being a danger to others.

Without thinking too much about it, lest he doubt himself, Harry cast a gentle, non-obtrusive spell over Phil. It would alert him should the other man be in mortal danger; it was the least Harry could do for what was about to happen next.

"I like you, Phil," Harry said. "You seem like a decent guy. Don't compromise your morals, not for anyone."

A flicker of bewilderment crossed Phil's face. "Thanks," he said. "Sure."

Harry smirked. "Now, you may want to close your eyes."

"What?" Phil asked. He tensed, hand sneaking down to what was likely a gun holster.

"Well," Harry said, gazing around the diner and frowning. "My pancakes have taken an awful long time to arrive."


	3. Chapter 3

Nick trusted Phil more than he trusted anyone else in the world, but the man had already been compromised once. There was a very good chance that he was still compromised, so Nick did what he did best and planned for each and every contingency.

The moment Potter walked into the diner, Nick began replacing both the staff and customers with SHIELD agents. Barton was on a rooftop covering one entrance and Romanov was playing the pretty waitress. The remaining entrance was covered by a SWAT team.

Phil walked in, bugged as discussed, but unaware of the rest of the operation. Nick had set up a machine that Stark seemed to think would be able to disrupt the energy the man used to teleport with the moment he was gone.

He listened with half an ear to the conversation. Sure, Potter sounded reasonable, but so had Hammer until he'd gone batshit insane.

 _"You may want to close your eyes,"_ Potter said.

 _"What?"_ Phil replied.

 _"Well, my pancakes have taken an awful long time to arrive,"_ Potter responded.

Nick wondered what the hell that meant, when suddenly there was a crackle of electricity shorting out: the bug had gone dead.

"Go!" he yelled into his mike, before realising that had shorted out too.

So had Stark's machine and every other piece of electronics in his possession. Nick burst out of the surveillance van.

"Get in there," he shouted at the SWAT team at the back entrance. They surged forward, even as shouting came from within the building. Nick kicked the door to the diner open.

Phil sat in a booth, two coffee mugs before him. He was blinking and shaking his head, as were all the other agents in the building. They were standing around, guns drawn, disorientated. As SWAT burst in through the back, they shook their heads at him.

Potter was nowhere to be seen.

"Motherfucker," Nick said.

* * *

Phil stared at Nick and tried to not feel bitter. It wasn't working. Nick was pacing his office in the Helicarrier, obviously riled up beyond belief.

"You had a whole operation going that I wasn't aware of?" Phil repeated. "Great. That turned out really well, didn't it?"

Nick turned and glared at him, none the less daunting for only having one eye.

"If you thought I was compromised," Phil continued, "you never should have allowed me into the field."

"I'm aware of that," Nick growled. "It was the best opportunity we had. It's not as if I was expecting him to notice us, or for that son of a bitch to take out all the electrical devices in a thirty meter radius."

Phil held up his hand. "Not all of them."

That stopped Nick's pacing. "No?"

"There were three devices within that radius that were there for medical reasons; a C-PAP, a pacemaker, and an insulin pump. They still work perfectly." Phil raised his brows and smirked. "But go on, tell me that he's dangerous and that what you tried to do today was the right avenue to go down."

When Nick just glared at him, Phil stood and walked out the door. Nick had potentially buggered up any chance they'd had at converting Harry to the Avengers, or even just consulting with SHIELD. He knew that ー he didn't need Phil to remind him.

However, despite the disaster today's meet up had been, something told Phil that Harry might still speak with Phil, if he could ever find him again. For the moment, that would have to be enough.

* * *

Tony narrowed his eyes as Jarvis replayed the CCTV footage for him, before it whited out. All the tech in the block, gone – caboom – in what agent's described as 'a flash of white light'. Even Tony's tech, which intrigued him more than anything.

"Have we got anything else on Potter?" Tony asked, absentmindedly tapping at the arc reactor before catching himself and fiddling with a spanner instead.

"Only the footage you're already aware of," Jarvis replied.

With a snort, Tony gestured for it to be rewound. He watched as Harry Potter's gaze followed the first of Fury's agents into the building; he'd been aware of them from the start. This was no stupid kid messing around with powers that he couldn't control. Sure, the guy was young, but he knew exactly what he was doing.

"Get facial rec up and running," he said. "If we find him, don't tell Fury."

He pulled up the other footage of the man teleporting across New York with less than a heartbeat between his disappearance and arrival. He'd managed three teleportations that they'd managed to capture on camera and didn't seem to be tired in the least. Tony ran a hand along his jaw, feeling the rasp of stubble on his palm.

"Fuck it," he said. "Make it world-wide. Who knows what this guy's limits are."

There was a good chance they'd never see nor hear from him again. Tony wished he'd bulldozed SHIELD's little meet and greet with Potter, if only to have a chat with a man from another dimension.

He pulled up the footage of Fury's face when he'd realised Potter had disappeared again and laughed to himself.

He liked the bloke simply for the fact that he pissed Fury off, if nothing else.

* * *

In this world, there was no such thing as Little Whinging. The town had never existed. Neither had the Dursleys, as far as Harry could tell, nor Hogwarts, Grimmauld Place, or Platform 9 ¾.

He debated looking for Ron or Hermione and decided not to curse his luck. Even if two people existed with those names, they wouldn't be the same friends he'd known. Harry had mourned their deaths over a hundred years ago and he had no wish to be haunted by ghosts with their faces.

Instead, Harry returned to America, truly leaving his past behind. He stayed away from big cities and bought a VW Campervan. With liberal application of an Undetectable Extension Charm, he created a modest flat within the vehicle. He was determined not to let SHIELD's existence stop him from exploring the world he'd ended up in. As he explored the country, he was confident that he'd left SHIELD and any other tails he might have had behind him.

The various diners and bars he'd stopped at on his travels always seemed to be showing some form of the news, whether it was the week's latest superhero and celebrity gossip or discussions of the stock market. When planning his road trip, however had had not accounted for a man whose name he only recognised from the constant media attention.

When Tony Stark sauntered into a bar in rural New Hampshire, Harry knew it was going to be one of those sorts of days. Stark sat down next to Harry as if he'd chosen the seat without any consideration for who Harry might be, playing on his mobile phone before chucking it onto the counter.

It wasn't the sort of coincidence Harry believed in. He sighed, glancing around the gloomy interior of the bar. Patrons were nudging their neighbours and nodding toward Stark. They were beginning to take pictures, whispering about his presence, probably tweeting about it too. Harry ducked his head and glared at the other man.

"I'm going to have to abandon my campervan, now," he said. "Damn you."

Stark shot him a sideways glance and smirked. "That ugly old thing? I'd have thought you'd be grateful to be rid of it."

"One man's trash…" Harry said, leaving the rest of the idiom unsaid. "I recommend the buffalo wings, by the way."

Stark grunted and ordered a plate of wings and scotch from a star-struck bartender.

Harry checked his watch. He'd starting wearing the digital ones once someone had figured out how to stop electronics from breaking every time they came into contact with magic. It was a little after seven in the evening.

"How long until SHIELD, or some other intelligence agency arrives, clamouring for my blood?" Harry wondered. "Did you fly here in your suit, Stark?"

Dark eyes regarded him as Stark sipped at his scotch. "Yes," he answered. "Probably fifteen minutes, I'd have thought."

Harry huffed. With a thought and a touch of his finger to his wand, he collapsed the spells he had on the van, undoubtedly sending bedding and pots and crockery crashing to the floor of the now tiny living space. As usual, everything he had of importance was on his person, so he did not mourn the loss.

"So, you've found me," Harry said after they sat in silence for a few minutes. "What the hell do you want?"

Stark had been eyeing the plate of buffalo wings approaching, but he turned to give Harry his full attention.

"Everything," he said. "Starting with, hmm, let's see: how did you travel across dimensions? How did you manage to perfect teleportation? Is it an exact science? Oh, please don't say it's 'magic' or some such nonsense. Did you synthesise the drug you gave Coulson yourself? Because, if you did, you should really come and work for me, we could use someone like you."

Stark ate a buffalo wing, wiping his fingers on a handkerchief he kept in his pocket. "Damn, these are good." He ate another. "My questions are endless and I'm sure the moment you start answering them, I'll have even more. However, what I really want, Mr Potter, is to determine whether you're a threat to me and mine. You see, I don't think that you are, but boy, you sure have given the beehive a good old kick."

"I'm rather good at that," Harry replied. "It's a talent of mine."

Stark snorted. "Don't think that you're the only one. It's a fine line between hero and villain. Be careful not to fall off it."

Harry suddenly felt the entirety of his two hundred and fifty years. "All I want is to be left alone so that I can travel the world, Stark. Is that too much to ask for? SHIELD came after me, not I after them." He stood, tucking a few bills under his empty pint glass. "Thanks to you, I've now got to move on again."

A warm hand on his shoulder startled Harry.

"I don't think you're here to cause trouble, but that doesn't mean there won't be any," Stark said. He grimaced. "But I'll see if I can get them to back off a little."

Harry supposed that was as a good as an apology as anything. Stark was right in thinking that trouble always seemed to find Harry.

"Fine. Say hi to Phil," he replied.

"Phil?" Stark said. "Who's Phil?"

Harry shook his head and walked out the back door. In the distance, three black SUVs approached and if he stretched his magic he could sense three airborne bodies in a helicopter. He glanced around and spotted the camera he'd missed, the one that must have given him away. He gave it a lazy salute and grinned before Apparating away.

* * *

"What did you get from him, J?" Tony asked, flipping over the scanner he'd placed on the counter. It was the mirror image of the lastest Stark Phone, but the tech inside was anything but.

"He's is a baseline human," Jarvis answered into his earpiece. "As far as I can tell from an external scan."

Tony stared at the door Potter had exited from, tilting his head as if it would help him think.

"Really," Tony said, mind racing. "Interesting."


	4. Chapter 4

If Stark hadn't been the most valuable member of the Avengers Initiate, a technological genius, and someone that Nick occasionally cared about, he'd be strangling him right now.

"You let him go?" he bellowed.

Stark didn't look up.

"Yup. Although it could be argued that he escaped, or even left. I wasn't exactly trying to make him stay."

"May I ask why not?"

"May I ask why? He's not broken any laws, none that matter at least." Stark finally tucked his phone away and grinned. "The more you hound him, the faster he'll run."

Nick huffed. As usual, Stark was right. He was saying exactly the same thing Phil had been browbeating into him after the disaster in that New York diner.

Instead, here they were in New Hampshire, Potter displaying his usual disregard for the laws of physics. At least with Stark, Rogers, and Banner, he knew how their 'powers' had come into being—through science and hard work. He feared the unknown, the enormous capacity for dangerous that the world contained. He hated being unable to control it.

"He did ask me to give you a message."

"Yeah?"

"He said 'say hi to Phil'." Stark frowned, sliding his sunglasses onto his face. "Who the hell is Phil?"

Nick snorted, shaking his head. The man was never going to let him live this down.

* * *

Harry's face was plastered all over the news. He pocketed his phone and sighed. It was as he'd expected, after the attention that Stark had drawn.

It would have been inconvenient for anyone else. He half-wondered if that had been intentional, but Stark hadn't seemed the type to that sort of subterfuge. He stared into the mirror, wondering what colour he should charm his eyes. Perhaps red? Then he could truly embrace the Dark Lord visage.

'It's a fine line between hero and villain' indeed. Stark would know, he trod it too. Impudent little shit. Harry tapped the mirror, charming his eyes hazel to match his dad's, and altering the shape of his nose to mimic his mum's. He ran a hand through his hair, giving it golden streaks so that it was tawny, not jet black. He looked a little like Teddy had, in his youth.

The sound of sirens made Harry grin. He eyed his reflection and dubbed it suitably dissimilar to his true face. Exiting the bathroom, he joined the other patrons of the pub just half a mile from where he'd been found before alternatively watching the TV and the emergency vehicles whizz past the road outside, discussing the drama.

"That's Iron Man, isn't it?"

The media choppers had arrived just in time to watch Stark step into his suit.

"You can probably see him fly off from outside," Harry suggested. The bar was emptied in a sudden rush.

"Thanks for that, running off my customers," grumbled the woman behind the bar.

"They'll be back, I'm sure," Harry said. He grinned. "Won't be able to resist the gossip."

He followed the assembled throng outside, then ducked around the side of the house. Using the Hallows to charming himself completely invisible, he walked back toward the pub he'd just left Stark behind in. One man seemed to be directing the chaos as they evacuated patrons and began interrogations. He stormed around in a black leather jacket and wore an eyepatch like some kind of pirate. Moody would have loved him.

"Get Phil Coulson here right now!" he boomed.

Harry bit back a laugh. He watched for a few minutes, trying to understand the depth of their operation, but the man in charge seemed to be getting twitchier by the second, glancing around like he expected to catch someone watching them. He supposed it wasn't paranoia if someone really was out to get you.

It was time to move on. Harry Disapparated with a quiet pop.

* * *

Phil was there when the tech team finally managed to open up Harry's VW van and so he was there to see the explosion of furniture, clothing, and paraphernalia pour out from the van.

They'd had to take the van apart at the seams, using fire rescue equipment.

"What the hell?" Fitz muttered as he began picking through it all. "It's not physically possible that this all fitted in here. Is that a double bed? Is that a piano?!"

It was, indeed, a piano. The piano had folded in upon itself, crushed between the walls of the VW.

"That is a criminal waste of a Steinway," May muttered.

"But how?" Fitz continued, shaking his head. "It's not like it ever fitted!"

"There's a crumbled fireplace over here," Simmons called. "And a washing machine."

There was a pause filled with indeterminate cursing.

"And a dryer. What the—how?"

Phil blinked. He pressed his palms into his eyes. Attempting to wrap his mind around Harry and everything that entailed was looking to be impossible.

"Magic," he finally said. "Let's just say, magic made it happen, and take it from there, okay?"

Fitz and Simmons exchanged equivalent looks of horror.

"But how?" they said in unison.

Phil groaned.

It wasn't like he had any idea.

* * *

When Tony received the report detailing the contents of Potter's van, he sent it back, thinking it was a joke.

Fury called him ten minutes later.

"It's not a joke, Stark," he said, looking weary. "I don't know how the fuck he's doing it."

"Really?" Tony said. He pulled up the report again. "Nicky, this report tells me that inside that van there was a six-foot-wide dining table, a baby grand, and three sofas, to name just a few items. JARVIS, set that up for me."

Immediately, a hologram of what Potter's van had contained appeared before him, their cubic volume hovering beside each item. Tony flicked it, spinning it before him.

"There's no physical way that everything on this list fitted inside that van. It's not possible. Look—the sofas take up a third of the space themselves."

He snapped his fingers, pointing them toward Fury.

"Physics says no."

Fury narrowed his single eye.

"I'm well aware of that, Stark. Physics also says no to a lot of things, like teleportation, and goddamn dimension travellers, but we've witnessed that happening too. Like it or not, the man had a bloody apartment inside his van. I've no damn idea how."

Tony stared at the hologram. He compressed it, brought up an image of a VW, considered how the hell this could happen.

"I'll call you back," he said, shutting down the call with a swipe of his hand.

"Stark!"

"Call terminated," JARVIS advised.

"Total blackout, J," Tony said. He drummed his fingers on the arc reactor. If what Fury had said was true, then somehow Potter had found a way to make things smaller than they ought to be.

He voiced that thought aloud.

"Or the inside of the van larger," JARVIS said. Tony stared at the glass walls of his workshop.

"Or that," he conceded.

He was going to need help. Unfortunately, the only person that could help him also hated Tony's guts. Tony sighed, tossing a spanner from hand to hand, before chucking it onto the worktop with a clatter.

"JARVIS, I think it's about time I found out exactly what my father did to Hank Pym."

* * *

Harry moved back to New York. He amused himself at the thought that he was hiding right under SHIELD's nose, but they deserved the snub. He conjured himself a set of IDs and rented a flat in Brooklyn.

He passed himself off a writer, to his neighbours, who were polite and quiet for the most part. Harry did write, but he spent the majority of his time exploring New York using the Muggle transport network. It was a brilliant city. He did miss the magical communities, but it had been years since he'd visited them anyway.

One evening, as he traipsed up the stairs with groceries in each hand, he ran into the man from flat five, directly above his. He was tall and blonde, the type that worked out a lot.

"Need help with your bags?" the man asked, dangling his earphones around his neck. He'd obviously just been for a run.

"Sure." Harry smiled, glad to see that some people in New York could be decent human beings. "In fact, would you like to come over for dinner, as thanks?"

The man scooped up the groceries and bounded up the stairs, still full of energy. He grinned down from the landing above.

"Sounds great, thanks. You don't mind if I shower, first?"

"Not at all. It'll give me time to get started," Harry said, following with a little less speed.

"New to the city?" the man said. "I can't help but notice the accent."

"Spot on," Harry agreed. "Yourself?"

"Nah, Brooklyn born and bred."

The man popped the groceries by Harry's door and offered his hand.

"Steve, nice to meetcha."

"Harry," Harry responded. "See you in half an hour?"

"I'll be there," Steve said with a grin. "Thanks again. I'm not much of a cook myself, to be honest."

"It just takes a little practise," Harry said. He should know. He unlocked his door and dragged both bags in. With the door shut, he sagged against it.

It would be nice to have some company again, even if it was just dinner. He supposed he could always kidnap Phil and take him out somewhere, but somehow Harry didn't think that would go down so well.

Running a practised eye over his apartment, he flicked his wand, making sure that everything magical was tidied away before he took the shopping through to the kitchen. He began unpacking, considering what to cook. Spag bol was a safe bet, everybody loved that. Hopefully, Steve would too.

* * *

Nick waved for Barton to come in, lifting his head at the knock. Barton skulked through the door, sliding a report onto his desk.

"Rogers has made contact with a neighbour. Nothing new other than that, sir."

Nick eyed the file. After the debacle with Potter, he hardly felt like sifting through paperwork, not when one of his most reliable agents had been on surveillance all week.

"The neighbour?"

Barton shrugged. "A writer. Trust fund baby, too, looks like. They had dinner, parted ways."

"Did you run a background check?"

"Nothing came up."

Nick nodded, pushing the file to the side. He offered Barton a nod.

"Well done. It's been a hell of a week. Get some rest, you're back on him in forty-eight hours."

Barton grinned. "Any luck with the wizard?"

Nick scoffed. "Wizard? What gave you that idea?"

"Sounds better than sorcerer, doesn't it? Harry Potter, the wizard."

"Get out of here, Barton," Nick said, suppressing a grin. He was a cheeky little shit, but always had something to say to cheer him up.

"Sir, yes sir." Barton saluted and scarpered out the door.

Nick contemplated the file again, then stored it in Roger's draw. He wasn't going to bother reading the report, not if it was as simple as Barton had implied. He withdrew a bottle of scotch and a glass, pouring himself a small measure.

Leaning back into his chair, Nick toasted Potter for his successful outwitting of them so far. He then toasted Rogers, for adjusting so well to modern life.

It would be good for the man to make a friend. What could go wrong?


End file.
